


Your Body Felt Just Like a Back Pack |CS•J3T|

by DaGuppz (orphan_account)



Category: Hollywood Undead (Band)
Genre: Implied Murder, M/M, Necrophilia, death death death, implied suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 11:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7220161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/DaGuppz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a one shot writen to the song back pack by andrew jackson jihad</p><p>(i dont have a synopsis for this one)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Body Felt Just Like a Back Pack |CS•J3T|

**Author's Note:**

> oh, hey there.  
> hi, yeah, im not dead. yet.  
> still not over that allergic reaction so theres still time for me to croak.  
> anywhore,  
> enjoy~~ you unfortunate lovers

George woke up, groggily muttering about a head ache he was gaining from the night before.  
He rolled over and looked to his right.  
His lover lay there, pale, his facial hair scruffy and thick, dried droplets smeared in it.  
His lower body cover with the soaked then dried blanket was grotesquely mutilated, his intestines pulled out of his abdomen and tucked around him in a seemingly pretty manner. His legs were laid crisscross, his hands on his chest.  
Brilliant scarlet cross cuts littered his skin, God forgive him. His sins were undeniable, but so were George's, for he loved a man. 

He had to repent for the crimes he had committed. So he had. He had showed God that he was loyal and would prove it a million times over.

He runs his hands over the other's face, his mouth was parted slightly and he was almost more beautiful in death than in life.

He spoke gently to the man next to him, "Good, morning, Jordon. It's time we get going."

George pushed hair out of his lover's face and sat up.  
George was already dressed for the occasion, not wanting to upset God or Jordon for making them late.  
But, of course, George wasn't going to Heaven. No, surely not. He had sinned with this man too many times and would join him in Hell.

Pulling the covers off of Jordon he plopped his trusty duffle bag onto the bed next to him.  
He leaned down to the chubby man's ear, "I can't fit you in there in a whole, give me a second."

He left the bedroom and head out into the shed in the back yard.  
Opening the shed he wrapped his fingers around a hatchet that had become rusted from the rain that leaked through the tin roof.

Back inside the room, he stroked Jordon's face lovingly, while raising the weapon.  
It moved down swiftly in his hand and the flesh of Jordon's upper thigh severed in a clean slice.  
The useless, blood coagulated sliced like a cranberry jelly.

He continued on all his limbs up until his head, where he laid a long, loving kiss onto his lips and decapitated the younger, though dead, man.

 

The air was still and nothing more than a bird and waves could be heard as George pulled the duffle bag from over his shoulder and into his arms.  
"Let's take a walk, Jordon." George said, slowly stepping into the warm, salty water.

**Author's Note:**

> comment over kudos as always  
> i enjoy writing things lie this just to vent, its fun.


End file.
